


The Night Before (Life Goes On)

by Slut_4_Jagermeister



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Kitesweek2020, Sexual Assault, human!crazy slots, kite’s backstory explored, non/dubcon, without spoiling this is somewhat graphic and definitely violent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slut_4_Jagermeister/pseuds/Slut_4_Jagermeister
Summary: An old enemy, and Kite’s last days being homeless
Kudos: 9





	The Night Before (Life Goes On)

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE I get jumped I wanted to explain the thought process behind this. I noticed a lot of hatsu’s In HxH revolve around the characters trauma (Hisoka and his childhood candies, Illumi and Killua basing theirs off their assassin training, feitan having to be in physical pain for his to activate, Kurapika having to literally trigger himself for his, etc) and Crazy Slots is such a specific persona, I don’t see how it was randomly made up. So I made him a real person from Kite’s past that he based it on (considering his distaste for seeing/using it). This fic doesn’t shy away from the reality of his upbringing and I understand that isn’t for everyone, but I wanted to explore the possibilities for this prompt/day. It gets hopeful at the end though, so this isn’t all doom and gloom

Kite didn’t want to go, but it was the pup's only chance. He’d spent the entire day trying to scrounge up enough materials to make a meager fire out of, but luck had not been in his favor. So out into the night he’d gone, even though every instinct screamed at him to turn around. He looked down at the small bundle in his arms. No gut feeling could overpower the guilt he would feel if he didn’t try to save her because of his own selfish reasons. 

All his other friends had their winter coats save her, being born late in the season because of an irresponsible breeder. She shivered against his chest and coughed. Kite gathered her closer within his ratty coat and hurried faster down the street. It was a bitingly cold night. His long legs became of use for once, and it didn’t take long to reach the campfire. All the usual suspects surrounded it. 

“Here comes the fucking freak.” One mentioned from his cardboard box. Kite ignored him and shouldered off his coat, placing it so close to the fire it made his eyes water. He set the puppy on top, and was pleased when she yawned and curled into the bedding. Kite shivered without his coat. He looked each shadow around the flame in the eye. 

“You can do whatever you want with me, but leave her alone. Any of you touches her, I’ll kill you.” They all scoffed. 

“Whatever, beast boy.” From the darkness  _ he  _ appeared. The leader. Hulking and ugly, with his blue clown makeup still halfway intact on one eye and a silver scar through the other. He stalked up to where Kite knelt and leaned down, grasping a fistful of silver hair before yanking him to his feet. He looked him up and down hungrily, licking his lips. 

“Anything?” The clown asked. Kite struggled against his grip. It only tightened, and he felt sections of his hair rip out.

“Please- not my hair-“

“It’s you or that curr.” He let go of Kite and stomped over to the puppy, sleeping peacefully unaware. Kite placed his body between the two. 

“No.” He said desperately. “Me.” From nowhere a fist hit him in the mouth, busting his lip. 

“That’s what I thought. If you’re good, I’ll give you some food.” Kite’s stomach rumbled at the prospect despite the pain in his mouth. Everything he’d stolen for the last 5 days had gone to his animals. He looked up into the hulking man’s face with blood trickling down his, and nodded. Kite knew he wasgood looking, and it wouldn’t be the first time a man had…. used him in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep. Sometimes he wondered if it was the only reason he was still alive at all. He braced himself for the worst. 

Without shame the clown led him within throwing distance from the fire, and Kite tried his damndest to keep an eye on his pup. He could see her out the corner of his eye as the man shoved him down to his knees, unbuckling his pants at the same time. The rest of the clown’s troupe sniggered when he yelped out in pain as his knees hit the hard ground.

“Suck me off good, pretty boy, and I’ll give you a meal.” So he did, and when the man finished he came so hard it choked Kite and flew out his nose. Blood, cum, and drool all leaked out of his mouth and down his chin as the jester thrust a piece of jerky and two stale heels of bread in his hands. The clown kicked Kite in the stomach for good measure before walking back to his lean-to. Kite dragged himself back over to the puppy and gently woke her to split the food.

After, he curled around her best he could to shield the side open to the wind. She lapped at his tears before falling asleep once more. Kite tried to make himself as comfortable as he could on the hard ground, and eventually fell into a fitful sleep. 

In the morning he woke with his teeth chattering, but alive. The puppy was not. Panicked, he looked up to where the fire was supposed to be roaring and was met with a pile of cold ashes instead. The fire had gone out, and it’d been out for quite some time. 

The clown was laughing. 

“Guess I forgot to add more wood in the middle of the night.” 

Kite was still trying to process that the thing he’d vowed to protect at any cost was dead. She just looked asleep, wasn’t she just asleep? Surely she’d wake up and he might have to do this all over again that night but that was ok, it was ok as long as she was safe. Then the words finally clicked in his mind. He leapt across the dead fire, screaming. 

“YOU UNIMAGINABLE BASTARD, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU-“ The man caught him halfway by the throat, hard enough to cut Kite’s breath off. His other hand grabbed Kite’s wrists together, so tight he could feel the bones crack and grind. He grimaced from the pain but he was damned if the clown would see him cry. The man looked down on him cruelly with that ugly face of his, the makeup still somehow somewhat on. The hand holding his wrists suddenly let go, only to punch Kite so hard in the face again he thought he would black out. 

“Tell you what kid.” He reached behind him and threw a cover back. “I’ll let you pick what I beat you with until you’re deader than that dog.” Through a black swollen eye Kite saw a variety of weapons; a baseball bat with nails sticking out of it, brightly painted. A variety of knives, a sword. Even a gun. 

“So what’ll it be?” He asked with a smile that could curdle milk. 

“Go to hell!” Kite yelled and threw the handful of sand, gravel, and dirt into the man’s face. It distracted him for the second Kite needed to scramble to his feet, grab the puppy and his coat and dash down the alley. Behind him the clown bellowed, vowing revenge. 

The next days passed in a blur. He made the decision to stay away from his sewer for a short while, just in case he was being followed. The first thing he did after he was confident the troupe wasn’t at least hot on his heels was bury his puppy. He took her to where he buried all the ones he couldn’t save for one reason or another with an incredibly heavy heart. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. You deserved better.” He apologized as he laid the pup to rest, wrapped in a torn off piece of his blue obi. For a split second he felt eyes on him, and whirled his head around scanning the horizon. The hill he’d made his personal cemetery had views for miles in each direction, and nothing seemed peculiar. He finished burying his puppy with more haste than he would have liked and set off back to town. 

His pack found him the second he stepped onto the street, with wagging tails and panting tongues. They must’ve felt his distress. It made Kite smile for the first time in days. 

“Hey boys. Let’s get some food, yeah?” And so they set off on their usual routine. Luck finally came through for Kite as he swiped candies and pastries from stands unnoticed. He shoved them in the deep pockets of his coat and moved to the last stand, the baker. 

He noticed. His sons gave chase as they raced through the alleyways, but it was nothing Kite couldn’t handle. The dogs knew what to do, and in no time they were struggling with the garbage cans on their heads rather than pursuing him. Together they took the long way back, finally, to the place Kite called home. 

He immediately felt the difference in the atmosphere when he entered, though he couldn’t explain it if someone had asked. It was heavy, important. He gripped the load of bread tighter in his arms lest he would have to flee, or fight. His dogs ran forward excitedly, barking. One of the lights had gone out long ago, and the other simply flickered on its own whim. Kite squinted in the darkness, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. As if on cue the light flickered on. 

There, surrounded by his horse and dogs was a boy about his age, seemingly nonplussed all the animals were licking at his hands and face. 

“You live here with these guys?”

  
  
  



End file.
